Kit hummed his hello and bit—without fangs—at Quin’s pec.
“Ow,” Quin said.
Kit looked up at him. Quin had never been so relieved at the sight of his bright purple-blue eyes. There was a cheeky expression on Kit’s face, a carefree glint that Quin never wanted to see gone again. It made his insides fuzzy with fondness.
“That didn’t hurt,” Kit stated.
Quin placed a protective hand over his chest. “What makes you say that?”
Kit’s fangs slid out, sharp and glinting in the low light. “Because you like it when I bite you.”
“Carry on, then,” Quin said, leaning back on the pillow and giving Kit access to his neck.
Kit didn’t wait for further invitation. He sank his fangs into the juncture of Quin’s neck and shoulder. Kit had been right in his assessment: Quin did like it when Kit bit him.
Quin sank into the mattress as his body warmed, a fire of need stoking in his belly. He cradled Kit’s head, giving Kit’s mussed curls a light tug. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Kit taking his time over his breakfast.
Kit pulled away, a drop of blood dripping from one fang before he licked his teeth clean. His pupils were blown wide, not like that morning, but enough that it gave Quin a split-second jolt of concern. What Kit said next, however, had Quin blinking with shock.
“I want you to fuck me, Daddy.”
SEVENTEEN
Kit
Kit hadn’t plannedfor those words to slip out of his mouth. Not that he hadn’t thought about it, though. No, he’d considered how it would make him feel, and if it was what he wanted. He’d obsessed over the possibility of opening himself up like that after decades of going untouched.
His mouth simply ran faster than his brain, and doubly so when he’d just had his fill of Quin’s blood.
Quin looked silently up at him from where he lay underneath him on the bed, his eyebrows almost at his hairline.
“Well?” Kit prompted.
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m super on the fence about it. That’s why I said it, Daddy.” Kit poked one of Quin’s nipples. “Of course I’m sure.” That was a tiny lie, as hehadn’tbeen sure when he’d said it, but now that the words were out there, he didn’t want to take them back. He was ready, and he was willing, and he was eager for it. He wanted to make that choice for himself. And the more he thought about it, the more his body reacted, the blood he’d taken from Quin heating inside of him and rushing to his cock.
“Have you…” Quin trailed off, gaze flicking away from Kit before settling back on him.
“Have I what?”
“Done it before?” Quin’s voice came out in a whisper.
Kit had been raring to go. But he flopped off Quin and down onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling. He wished Quin hadn’t asked.
“Yes.”
It was only one quiet word, but it hung in the air as loud as a shouted expletive; so tangible that Kit could have reached out and touched it, prodded at the numb pain of the admission. Memories reared their ugly heads. He dug his claws into his palms, focusing instead on the sharp spikes of physical pain.
“Kit, baby.” Quin took hold of Kit’s hands, uncurling them from the fists he’d formed. On each palm, four perfect half-moon cuts shone with blood.
“It doesn’t hurt,” Kit said.
“I don’t like seeing it.”
“It’s nothing.”
Quin brought one of Kit’s palms to his mouth. “May I?” he asked.
